


Disturbed Sleep

by Abra_ca_fuck_you



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Other, Pining, Spoilers for WiH, Tense Fuckery, dream - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14563680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abra_ca_fuck_you/pseuds/Abra_ca_fuck_you
Summary: Hella Varal wasnt the only person who had her sleep disturbed by Thorondir. Adaire is still caught up on her halfling thief.





	Disturbed Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I experimented with using different tenses, so if that fuckery will bug you then, move on i guess.  
> rated teen for the implication of someone... putting a badge on their own dog, so to speak.  
> Also I know the title is shit, ill fix it if anything comes to me.  
> Also im posting this from an Aldi’s parking lot because my internet/power/phone service at home are all broken

They all had their own tents on this journey, a luxury that Adaire’s not always had. And she was especially thankful tonight, because there was a hunger in Thorondir’s eyes tonight, illuminated by firelight.  
There was something strange with him, he was avoiding Hadrian and Hella, walked far ahead of them on the path.  
Some of which was part of his job, certainly, but even at camp he hardly said a word, only asked questions after Adaire’s stories and refused to share any of his own.  
She had trouble resting still that night. Slipped in and out of fleeting dreams, where theres a hand on the small of her back and whispers in her ears.  
But there’s hesitation in the figure in front of her. How they take a half step back and look to the ground  
And hesitation isn’t a bad thing per se, but it hurts to see when you’re expecting trust.  
“There’s scars in my back, Adaire.”  
And there’s a cold bottle in her hand.  
“I can sooth them,” she says, stepping towards them. They have a small smile on their face as they look up at her.  
“I’m afraid the best you can do is try.”  
The scene shifts around them, but the first thing Adaire notices is a hard wall on her back, sticks and stones beneath her thighs, and a small body between her knees, under her thumbs.  
“And try, I will,” she whispers into their ear, pulling a sigh from them as she works on a knot in their shoulder. They lean back against her, head on her shoulder. She raises a hand to ruffle it through their shaggy hair, and they hum, their face following her hand.  
She strokes their cheek, pushing their hair away from their eyes. She feels an urge to say something, but she has nothing to sat, settling on whispering their name.  
“Blake...”  
Adaire was awoken by her own voice in the cold tent, but she didnt make the only noise in the night. Because noises were leaking from Hella’s tent nearby. Adaire flushed and rolled onto her stomach, pressing her face into her pillow.  
“At least someone’s having a good time,” she thought to herself.  
“I am,” Blake admits to her. They shift against her front, settling against her. Adaire runs her hands down their arms, wrapping around them tight. She hums with contentment.  
The moon sank away minutes or hours ago, and the two turn their faces to the sky, with the stars winking and trembling out of place above them.  
“Blake is so warm,” Adaire thinks, and they smile at her, uncapping one of the bottles they brought.  
The glass bottle is cold against her lip. She expects beer, but instead it’s a surprisingly light perry. After a sip, she replaces the drink with Blake’s lips.  
Their fingers entwine with the braid plaited close to her head. Her hands reaxh for their lower back, but floats through them, and landed on her lap.  
She opened her eyes, and could barely make out the draping of the tent overhead, and the murmurs from Hella’s tent nearby.  
Adaire wondered if there was any way she could find a peaceful sleep, and somehow knew to curse Thorondir.  
She sighed, and struck a match off her boot to light her lantern. She turned to her maps, setting to deciphering the code she left for herself the day before.  
She ignored the howling of the wind just outside.


End file.
